


The Eagles are Coming...

by Leidolette



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Child Death, Gen, Gore, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-05-30 10:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6420976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leidolette/pseuds/Leidolette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eagles are, and have always been, birds of prey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eagles are Coming...

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the fest itsgettingdark in response to this prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _Characters who are usually portrayed as good or at least neutral showing their hidden dark side, be it cannibalistic or children-stealing hobbits, poisoner Elrond, mind-controlling Galadriel, grief-maddened Queen Dís being the terror of the neighbouring kingdoms (and her own) or whatever else you come up with!_  
>  I know this is not really specific, but the more twisted and unconventional, the better. ;)
> 
>  
> 
> The fest appears to be now defunct, but this fic is still dedicated to the anonymous prompter.

It was something like a vacation for the small family of Men that had set out less than an hour ago to gather berries from a grove in the far fields, long left fallow by previous generations. The fields were near the forest, which could be a dangerous place, but today the winds had pushed away every cloud threatening to shade the sun, and the air was full of the sweet smells of high summer.

The younger sister, young even by the standards of the short-lived race of men, ran from flowering bush to hollow log to trickling brook in something close to sheer delight, while the rest of the family walked more serenely. 

Erouńa beckoned her younger sister over with the air of sharing a strictly confidential secret. Her hands were cupped together in front of her.

"Hierun, would you like to see something?"

Erouńa opened her hands and sunlight glinted off the green shell of the thing inside. It was a beetle. A large one, but harmless, and Hierun smiled as it crawled up Erouńa's hand. At the top of her finger it hesitated, before its shell split and popped open, and it buzzed off into the open sky over the field. 

That's when she saw them -- a group of light brown blobs in the sky. Hierun shaded her eyes and pointed at them with her other hand. They were getting closer very quickly, and larger. Much larger. 

"What are those?" she asked. Her last words. 

Her father looked up, straightening his back to peer into the sky, and then it was too late -- the eagles were upon him. 

It was beautiful when it happened, in a way. The motion was done with such unearthly grace. The bird descended so quickly, the legs pulled forward in one smooth motion, the talons grasped the man's neck and shoulder and pierced all the way through, exploding out the back. With another flap of the great eagle's wings, the man was carried aloft across the field until the eagle alighted in the branches of a tree on the edge of the clearing, prize in hand. 

Hierun's mother screamed. It was all she had time to do before the next eagle's talon's tore into her, and she too was carried away. The eagle hit a stray gust of wind as it rose and lilted to the left, clipping her mother hard against the thick branches of a tree. Too far away for sound, Hierun could only see her mother's legs bloodied and hanging at an unnatural angle as the bird steadied itself.

And still there were more eagles diving from the sky.

Hierun ducked and swerved. And just in time -- her hair flew wildly around her face from the great billows of wind from the eagle's wings as it passed overhead, outstretched claws missing her by inches. 

Perhaps little children, vulnerable as they are to the whims of the world, posses more of the prey instinct. Hierun's mind cleared of everything but the fear, and she raced like a rabbit across the field towards the cover of the trees, keeping low to the ground. A faint shadow fell over her, and she darted hard to the right, swooping talons reached for her again -- and missed. She was so close to the treeline.

It was only the panicked yell of her older sister that broke her concentration. Hierun turned in time to see an eagle dig its claws deep into Erouńa's back. For a strange moment, with the light shining into Hierun's eyes, it looked as if her sister had grown wings. As if Erouńa had decided to take to the sky and soar on enormous, beautiful brown wings.

The surreal image distracted Hierun just long enough for another set of talons to wrap around her and pluck her from this earth. The eagle held her shockingly gently in its gigantic, leathery grip. The sharp-tipped claws were turned harmlessly away from the girl's soft belly. She struggled anyway, even when the height became a fatal drop, but it was futile -- this was a Great Eagle, and she was just a little child. 

They weren't in the air for long. The eagle alighted on a oak on the edge of the field, near the others of the group that had captured... prey. After settling in, the eagle bent its neck down to look at her, still trapped firmly in its talons. It's golden eyes were unblinking.

The fear pumping through Hierun's body heightened everything around her to a near unbearable level. She was a mouse, a vole, a squirrel; any one of the myriad animals that she had seen clutched in the claws of birds of prey. Was this how each one of those little creatures had felt? Terror that was louder than a scream filling their heads and nothing but ice in their bellies?

She wanted her Ma and Da.

Then, the great eagle spoke. It was so unexpected that it took Hierun a moment to comprehend the words, even though the eagle said them in perfect Westron.

"Are there any more of your party?"

 _My party?_ she thought. She was stupefied for a moment, tears flowing over her cheeks in silence. She had no idea what the eagle meant. She hadn't been out in these far fields with any party, she'd just been out here with her family--

"No," she gasped out, finally catching on and chased into honesty by her terror. Her mind still stuck in a mire, the only thing that Hierun could do was stare into the deep gold of the eagle's eyes. She did not turn her head to left or to the right, where the surrounding treetops were shaking with eagles busy with ripping apart prey that Hierun could not think on and still retain her sanity. They made sounds at each other occasionally while they ate, seemingly involuntary. In between gulps, a mewling like that of an abandoned kitten emerged from their beaks. 

"Ah, one short then," the eagle said, slightly disappointed.

The words meant nothing to Hierun, _one short for what?_ , and she never would find out, as, directly after the eagle uttered those last words, it leaned down and engulfed Hierun's head in its beak, simultaneously crushing and twisting. A quick succession of cracks and pops sounded loud in the sunny afternoon air as Hierun's skull collapsed and her neck broke. The thinking part of her was dead instantly, though spasms and shudders rippled through her body like echoes for almost a minute longer. 

In the end, the Great Eagle, Landroval, shared the body with Brandhent, a young eagle who had not quite been quick enough on the hunt to catch anything.

A good leader must always try to set the example for his people.

It was a long flight from the Misty Mountains to the Carrock, and dwarves were heavy. Flying exhausted energy, even that of the broad wings of the Great Eagles. Goats and sheep were usually the eagles' preferred prey, but when these were scarce, the great birds must be... flexible. 

And what predator, of any species, could be asked to ignore such an easy meal like a family of Man when they emerged into a field right under one's nose? None, he thought firmly. 

What was a group of Men to the fate of a great Dwarven kingdom? What was the life of a child of Man to the boon granted from the death of a dragon? Men, who barely sat on the side of light and whose souls have been so weak, again and again. 

Indeed, Landroval thought as he tore and swallowed, nothing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a very linguistically-minded Tolkien fan, but I tried to make the OC's names somewhat plausible. The family in the story are probably Mirkwood Woodsmen, and Hierun and Erouńa are both names derived from the same Polish town that sounded suitably Lord of the Rings-ish, Brandhent's name is Sindarin, and is supposed to translate to something like 'Lofty Eyes'. Hopefully you enjoy this and the names don't interfere with the storytelling!


End file.
